Wednesday and the Chicken Disease
by Morticia'sGrandRomance
Summary: Wednesday is sick, and Morticia and Gomez come to her aid. Based mainly on the 1960s TV show, with a few aspects of the cartoons/movies


_This idea came to me in a dream last night and I thought it was kind of cute (plus Gomez and Morticia are just the best parents ever) Anyway, there needs to be more Addams fanfiction, so I'd better do my part in making that happen_

_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any part of the Addams Family_

* * *

Morticia and Gomez were the only ones still awake in that dark old house that groaned and wheezed as the wind rustled past. Gomez was balanced precariously on his head reading his newspaper, or at least that's what it looked like he was doing. In reality he had both of his small dark eyes trained on his beautiful wife, who was sat in her wicker-back chair knitting, her clacking needles adding to the atmosphere of the night. She paused and glanced down at him.

"Gomez?"

"Yes Querida?" he flopped back down so that he was sitting upright at her feet.

"Do you hear that?"

He listened, "The romantic air?"

She shook her head, standing up and letting her knitting fall off her lap onto the floor. Silently, she ascended the stairs, and turned to the left. Gomez followed after, unlike his delicate wife the steps creaked noisily underfoot. He still couldn't hear whatever it was that perplexed his wife. She paused outside a door painted with an octopus, tentacles sprawled in intricate swirling patterns- tenderly brushed there by Morticia almost immediately after learning about her second pregnancy.

"Do you hear it now, darling?" she whispered.

Gomez pressed his ear against the door. The sound was almost imperceptible , but a sniveling sound could be heard through the wood. He nodded at her. Morticia opened the door and peered her head around it. There, laying in a whimpering ball on her bed, was their youngest child, and only daughter, Wednesday.

"Wednesday dear," Morticia entered the room, signaling her husband to wait in the hall, but leaving the door open to he could hear.

She shook her daughter gently awake, Wednesday immediately crawling into her mother's welcoming arms.

"Are you alright darling?" Morticia asked gently.

Wednesday shook her head, and clutched her stomach.

"You're stomach hurts?"

Wednesday nodded, and then pointed at her throat.

"And your throat?"

Another nod.

"But not in a good way," the girl croaked out.

Morticia pressed her palm against her daughter's head, and her eyes immediately widened. "Gomez, Gomez darling, come in here."

Gomez was in the room, kneeling at his wife's side in an instant.

"Feel her head," Morticia ordered.

He did so and pulled his hand away a moment later, placing it on his wife's cold knee to cool it down.

"She's burning up," Morticia stood up from the bed, still holding the six year old in her arms.

"I'll call Doctor Mbogo," Gomez said as they headed back down stairs.

"Oh no dear," Morticia shook her head. "Doctor Mbogo could never get here fast enough, Africa is a long way away you know."

"Oh yes."

"Better call Doctor Simmons, he only lives down the street, I'm sure he'll make a house call."

Gomez went to make the call, while Morticia carried Wednesday to the main family room and placed the girl in the good chair, which sagged in the middle making it very comfortable for the slight child to curl up in and try to get some more sleep. Gomez returned to the room and took his wife's hand as they stood over their daughter.

"He's on his way," he told her.

"I do hope he hurries," Morticia replied, not taking her eyes off her child.

A foghorn sounded, shaking the whole house.

"He certainly doesn't dilly dally," Morticia looked at her husband as he went to answer the door.

Dr Simmons didn't look very professional to the pair of worried parents, but, they reasoned, he did have to spring right out of bed and come over. He wore a white suit, with a crisp white coat over the top.

"Mr Addams," he greeted. "Mrs Addams"

"Welcome Doctor Simmons," Morticia gave him a brief smile before returning her attention to the tiny bundle in the concaving chair. "Our daughter, Wednesday. She's not feeling at all well. She's burning up, and she says that her throat and stomach hurt."

"But not in a good way," Gomez added.

"Well, let's have a look at her," Dr Simmons replied. "Wednesday, would you please sit up for me?"

Wednesday cast a glance at her mother, who nodded, before sitting up.

"Open your mouth please," the doctor instructed. "And stick out your tongue."

Wednesday did so, and the doctor stuck a small wooden stick in her mouth, shining a torch down her throat.

"Thank you," the doctor placed the stick back in his bag. He turned to Morticia and Gomez, "Would you mind unbuttoning her from those pajamas so I can place my stethoscope on her back without obstruction?"

Morticia nodded and stood Wednesday up, unbuttoning the sleepy child and lifting the top half for the doctor.

"Oh!" she gave a little start.

"What is it Querida?" Gomez asked, as he and the doctor walked around Wednesday to see what had caused the woman to gasp.

Her back was covered in small red welts, just starting to press through the skin.

"Ah," the doctor sighed. "It's chickenpox."

"Chickenpox!" Gomez and Morticia exclaimed.

"It's a very common disease in children," the doctor explained. "Surely the two of you must have had it at some point, lots of very itchy red spots all over your body?"

"Oh yes," Morticia nodded. "I've had that, I must have been about Wednesday's age. But I thought it was smallpox..."

"Optimist," Gomez nuzzled his wife's neck.

"Later, darling," she ran her fingernails down his cheek briefly before returning her attention to the doctor. "Go on, doctor."

"As I was saying, chickenpox is very common and quite curable. I'll bring you over an ointment for the spots tomorrow morning, and you can give her regular oatmeal baths. I'll bring you an instruction sheet tomorrow as well. Any questions?"

"Is it contagious?" Morticia asked.

"Only if you haven't had it before," the doctor replied. "If you have any other children, you had better keep them away from her until she starts to heal."

"I have a chicken disease!" Wednesday gave the doctor a rare smile as her mother tugged her pajamas back into place.

"Will the spots spread?" Gomez asked.

The doctor nodded, "Yes, they can appear all over the body."

"Oh goody!" Wednesday was almost beaming. "I can't wait until they're all over my face!"

* * *

As it turned out, Wednesday and Pugsley both had the 'chicken disease', as did most of the children in their school. After an initial few days of discomfort Wednesday's spots vanished almost completely, her skin return to it's usual pallor. Pugsley, however, remained spotty and itchy much longer. He was scratching furiously at the angry welts at the dinner table.

"Go ahead and scratch dear," Morticia said absentmindedly as she caught a hopping egg as it launched itself from her plate. "You'll leave some lovely scars."

Gomez came downstairs and entered the dining room, "Morticia dear, would you mind assisting me? I've got the most dreadful itch on my back, but I just can't seem to reach it."

Morticia patted her lip with a napkin and stood up, approaching her husband and untucking his shirt at the back, slipping her hands neatly underneath.

"Where dear?"

"Up a little, and to the left."

She followed his directions but paused when she reached the spot.

"What is it, cara mia?" Gomez asked.

Morticia raised his shirt, then nodded to herself, "Come on darling, I'm going to run you a nice bath."

"A bath?" Gomez grinned goofily. "Are you going to join me?"

She turned and smiled slyly at him, "An _oatmeal_ bath."


End file.
